


Sitzmark

by TheMadKatter13



Series: Word War of the Day 2016 [22]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-06-09 01:05:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6882832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMadKatter13/pseuds/TheMadKatter13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>Day 22 (2016.01.22)</b>
</p>
<p><i>noun</i><br/>1. a sunken area in the snow marking a backward fall of a skier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sitzmark

**Author's Note:**

> Hey. I'm alive. My new job just doesn't let me write while working. Also, I'm woefully behind on this project, and I've only just finished January. So here's all of January. If one of these ships isn't your thing, I've left a list with links to each individual ship in the Series Notes.
> 
> Originally posted to tumblr 2016-03-09.

The Stark house was alive with Christmas music, chatter from the crowded downstairs, and the mouth-watering scent of Catelyn’s feast. Which was exactly why Arya was hiding upstairs with Nymeria. Which was exactly why she was the only one to notice the motorcycle rumbling down the quiet snowy street and pulling into their driveway.

She frowned and pressed her face closer to the window, Nymeria pulling up close next to her, as she tried to figure out who the hell was even riding a motorcycle in this weather. Everyone except Sansa had arrived, but she wasn’t exactly the motorcycle type.

It took her a minute to realize that there were actually two figures on the bike, the first one so massive that they had blocked out the person behind them until they dismounted. She was shocked when the smaller figure removed their helmet to reveal her older sister’s bright red hair, and she promptly bolted from the room, her dog fast at her heels.

“Mom!” she shouted as she ran down the stairs, jumping the last few steps and racing to the doorway.

Sansa was already stepping through when she got to there, and Jesus fucking Christ the man with her was not only ugly as hell, but also looked liked he murdered people for fun. He looked liked the physical embodiment of the personality of every one of Sansa’s prior boyfriends and that one girlfriend, and Arya developed an immediate dislike of him on principal.

“Arya!” Sansa exclaimed, swooping her into a hug and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “This is my boyfriend, Sandor.”

The man nodded at her in greeting, but didn’t speak, and Arya could only stare after the two as they moved further into the house, sounds of familial greetings following in their wake.

* * *

Arya kept a close eye on ‘Sandor’ all evening, watching every movement, every look, every interaction.

The man boggled her. He was _so ugly_ , yet Sansa appeared to _genuinely love him_. Not only did she seem to love him, but Arya had never seen her sister happier.

Sandor himself looked at Sansa like the woman was the meaning of life: awed. He didn’t talk much, if at all, and when he did, his voice was quiet and rough, like it wasn’t well-used. Or more like the burns on the side of his face extended down to his throat and affected his vocal cords somehow. He doted on her like none of Sansa’s previous paramours ever had, called her ‘little bird’ in an affectionate murmur when he addressed her (Arya was still trying to figure out if it was a term of endearment or an insult, but she was reluctantly leaning towards the former considering the way Sansa lit up when he said it).

She laid in bed after dinner for an hour, still wondering if they were all going to be murdered in their sleep before finally letting herself fall unconscious.

The next morning, when all of them woke up alive and unharmed, they coalesced around the tree for presents. Arya continued to watch all through the sounds of ripped paper and thanks, still cautious, even though Sansa was cuddled in between her boyfriend’s legs with his arms loose around her waist and looking snug and content as all hell.

Finally, when all packages had been dispersed, the Starks were all starting to stand when Sandor spoke.

“I have one more,” he said, his rasp quiet as every other time he’d spoken, and yet enough to get the attention of everyone in the room.

Sansa turned to him with a question look in her eye, and then the man drew a little black box from his pocket.

Every Stark went still, including Sansa and Arya, as he opened it to reveal a silver ring and a purple gem. An amethyst. Sansa’s birthstone.

“Will you marry me?” he asked, expression closed off as if he was gearing up for battle, prepared for any reaction.

He didn’t have to be worried. Sansa teared up as she pulled the ring free of the box with shaking hands and slid the jewellery onto her ring finger. A moment later, when she tackled him off the couch with a loud thump and flying legs, Arya grudgingly resolved herself to accepting this strange, dangerous looking man into her sister’s life.

FINIS

**Author's Note:**

> Another 20M piece, and probably the only thing I'll ever contribute to the GoT fandom.
> 
> 2016 10M WotD [Master Post](http://themadkatter13fanfiction.tumblr.com/10M-WotD-2016).
> 
> Like the thing? Reblog the [thing](http://themadkatter13fanfiction.tumblr.com/tagged/Sitzmark). Tschüß.


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